


Something edgy and memorable

by YallKeepTakingTheGoodUsernames



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Honestly this is wild centric, also i dont know how to tag, angst most likely i guess, doesnt really matter tho, i didnt want to make a wild centric one myself but i had to, im sorry, in this house we die like men, tagless and not knowing how this fuckin website works, this reads like a 1d wattpad fanfic but shhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YallKeepTakingTheGoodUsernames/pseuds/YallKeepTakingTheGoodUsernames
Summary: idk i was talking to friends about how wild doesnt have the champions in lu but people keep writing them in fanfics so i decided to make a short story on how he would react if they were to come back. at least, thats how i think he would react .big f in the chat tbhsucks but urbosa could kill me and i would thank her
Comments: 9
Kudos: 146





	Something edgy and memorable

Upon waking up, he knew something was wrong. It wasn’t obvious like when he woke in the shrine of resurrection, but there was still something off. The calming feeling of emptiness he had been feeling since his fellow champions departed was gone.  
Wild sat up and gripped his heart, his breathing erratic. They can’t be back, they were freed when he defeated Calamity. Right?  
Right?  
Wild vaguely heard three bodies shift behind him as he tried to get control of his breath. It was all in vain when he found himself violently shivering, something akin to pain and exhaustion crushed him with the mercy of a silver Lynel.  
He jolted when a warm hand found its place on his arm. Wild tries to register who it is through the haze of his panic.  
“Hey man, you‘re alright, come on, just take a breath.” Warriors, it had to be, but there was something in his voice, a horrifyingly familiar growl in it. The roughness reminded him of someone he wanted to forget. The hand felt much cooler and heavier on his cold body within seconds.  
Something feral, wild burned in him and his body moved on its own from there. He was running, only his body knowing the destination, his rational mind said where he would inevitably collapse, what was left said nothing at all. Unfamiliar lands, which he had grown so accustomed to, slowly began to blur, no more trees. Only ruins. Cold sweat rolled between his shoulder blades, a sensation which was lost to the champion in that moment.  
Champion?  
Before he got the chance to contemplate the word, he stopped, skidding a few centimeters as he tried to regain his strength to stand. How long had he been running?  
Wild’s legs nearly gave out under him. He steadies himself for a moment and then slowly raises his hand.  
“Urbosa, lend me your fury.”  
He snapped.  
The world becomes white as lightning dances around him. His blood runs cold as nausea climbs up his throat. His legs give out , sobs fighting to free themselves. He doesn’t feel the rain violently pelt at his shaking body nor does he notice when his fingers go numb. All that he can think is one phrase.  
They’re back  
They’re back  
They’re back  
Almost at once, Wild can hear them. Their barely muffled cries of agony, voices intertwining in a song of a hundred years worth of torture. Wild hears his own voice join them.  
He curses to the sky. He curses the gods. He curses Hylia. He curses the triforce. He curses calamity.  
He curses himself.  
How dare they bring them back. How dare they force the champions to keep suffering. How dare he keep living to enable their torment. He should have died before they could be forced back into this unforgiving world. Now, he couldn’t dream of securing their freedom using such a method. She couldn’t let him.  
It began to rain.  
It began to rain because even when the goddess has tortured you for centuries, she will always guarantee a storm to hide your blood, sweat and tears with.  
A cruel being, she is.  
The next day he can’t remember when the hypothermia set in. He doesn’t recall how he uncurled his fingers, tingling from the snap, to find blue and black skin, frostbitten from tip to knuckle. He doesn't even remember when his companion, brother and mentor found him, screaming to the sky, the ground, the water, the storm, telling them to leave. Telling them that they were freed.  
His counterparts didn’t want to tell of how he collapsed into a heap of fever and hysteria upon contact and how something cold and empty possessed the boy in that moment. A shuddering breath leaving him, whispering one thing that the Twilight hero couldn’t understand and certainly never heard from Wild in their years of adventuring.  
It was something ancient, a word forgotten from the century of cultures evolving. In its mysterious energy, a sacred feeling was suspended in it. Something told him and the rest of his new family that they didn’t want to learn it.  
And while Twilight had no idea what the word could entail, he could have sworn that the second it was spoken, four figures appeared on the horizon, just between the trees. Exhausted rage flowing gently from their presence.

**Author's Note:**

> oop time to die i guess


End file.
